by Fiona Grace
*
Audrey still hadn’t quite accepted it by the time she got to Beacon Hill.
She kept repeating it over and over in her head, until she got into a rhythm with every step she walked. I OWN. A HOUSE. IN FREAK. ING IT. A LY. As she walked, faster and faster, the words got faster and faster in her head until they all bled together as one.
Climbing up the stairs to her sister’s brownstone, she rang the doorbell, still keeping the rhythm in her head.
Brina answered, Byron on her hip, a pair of chic reading glasses perched on the end of her pert nose, her iPad under her arm.
Before Brina could ask why Audrey was there at this time of the day, Audrey exploded like a time bomb. “I OWN A HOUSE IN FREAKING ITALY!”
Byron giggled gleefully. Brina’s jaw dropped. “You what?”
“You heard me! I OWN A HOUSE IN FREAKING—”
Before she could finish, Brina grabbed her arm and yanked her into the house. “That’s what I thought you said. Come in before the neighbors think you’re going insane.”
She might have been. Audrey wandered inside, still shell-shocked, then went back to the foyer and kicked off her shoes when she remembered Brina’s rule.
“You seriously didn’t. You mean that website?”
Audrey nodded. Byron smiled toothlessly at her in his blue sailboat onesie. She instinctively took him from Brina, balancing him on her own hip and doing the little rocking motion that he liked. “I did. I bid a buck. And then they emailed me immediately, saying my bid was accepted.”
She leaned into his head to sniff his yummy six-month-old baby smell, and his wispy blond hair tickled her nose. Meanwhile, Brina stared at her. “Wait. What are you doing here in the middle of the day? Are you off from work today?”
Audrey was in the middle of lifting Bryon’s body up so she could tickle his round belly with her nose, making him giggle maniacally. “Oh. I quit that.”
“You what?” Brina’s eyes bulged. “You did not. Today?”
Audrey nodded.
“Jeez, Aud. When I said you weren’t reckless last night, I meant it as a compliment. Not something I wanted you to change.”
Just then, the “twins” came running down the stairs. They weren’t really twins; Macy was five and Delia was four, but the two of them were just as close as Audrey and Sabrina had always been. “Aunt Aud, Aunt Aud!” they cried, tackle-hugging her at the waist.
Macy jumped up and down like a bouncy ball and dragged her bottom lip down past her chin. “Look, I lost a tooth.”
“Wow, neat!” she said, bending to give them kisses.
“Out!” Brina directed before she could. “Your aunt and I are talking! Adult time, remember? Remember what I said?”
The two little blonde girls nodded obediently.
She pointed up the stairs. “Good. Go play Barbies in your room.”
Audrey managed to get a couple kisses in before they ran off, their little sock-covered feet making far too much noise for their little bodies on the wood staircase.
Brina rolled her eyes and motioned her toward their gorgeous eat-in kitchen, where she set a kettle to boil on the stove. “You were saying? About your job?”
“Oh. Well. You know. Ferris—”
“Ugh, is this about him?” she mumbled, standing on her tiptoes, grabbing two mugs from the top cabinet and setting them on the granite countertop, filling them with tea bags. “Ferris the Fart. What’d he do now?”
Apparently, Dr. Ferris had a number of nicknames, none of them incredibly mature. Reliably, Brina had met him at some veterinary school function Audrey had dragged her to, and said, “That guy’s underwear must be really twisted in his pants. Stay away from him.” Again, she’d been so right.
Audrey placed Byron in his swing, turned the dial so a tinkling version of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star played, and slipped onto a stool at the center island. She said, “Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? He was acting like the jerk that he is, I couldn’t take it, so I quit.”
“You walked out? Just like that?”
She nodded. “Carey begged me to come back. Well, not exactly begged. Asked hopefully. But my mind was made up.” She lifted her phone. “So on the way home, I said, what the heck? And I placed the bid. It was accepted. On the spot.”
“Really? Wow.”
Audrey could usually read her sister’s thoughts, but right now, she couldn’t. Brina looked astonished, but also a little … worried? Probably with good reason. It was kind of out-there. “Anyway, I know you don’t approve, but—”
“I never said that!” Brina said as the kettle began to whistle. She grabbed it and poured the tea. “I just said that I didn’t know if it was the best idea for you. Because you know, you’re—”
“I know. I’m a wuss. But I’ve been thinking about it. I need to make a change. I can’t live like this for much longer,” she mumbled, her shoulders slumped.
Brina looked at her, nodding her head sympathetically. “I get it. So, what does this place look like?”
Audrey bit her lip. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
She pulled out her phone and scanned to the listing. She pushed it over to Brina, who read it. “Wow. Well, it sounds really nice. Nicer than I thought. It has air conditioning?”
Audrey looked at the listing and shrugged.
“Where is that? What is it called? Mussolini?”
“Mussomeli,” Audrey corrected, entering the name on her maps app. It brought up a little place right in the very center of the island of Sicily. “Looks like it’s in the mountains. Hmm. I wonder if you can see the water from there?”
Brina brought her mug of tea over and peered over her shoulder. “Well, it’s an island. And I guess it’ll be an adventure.”
Audrey stared at her sister. Part of the reason she’d come all this way was because Brina was so good at talking her down from the ledge. “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m crazy, wanting to uproot myself and fly halfway across the world?”
Brina shook her head and leaned her elbows on the counter. “Well. You are. But maybe you’re right about this. You’re in a rut, right? Maybe you need to shake things up a little. Maybe this is the universe telling you that.” She paused. “And I always thought you should’ve gone away to UCLA. You’re ready. Whether or not you know you are.”
Audrey peered at the location on the map, in the middle of an island, in the middle of a sea, in the middle of the world, so far away. “You really think it’s a sign?”
She smiled. “Yeah. Maybe. Besides, you can always come back if it doesn’t work out. Boston’ll still be here waiting for you.” She sipped her tea. “And maybe you’ll get to see if any of Dad’s Mr. Fix-It tendencies rubbed off on you. Do you have any money saved?”
Audrey nodded. “Well. A little. I have a 401k. I can use that. And I can defer my student loans for a year. The real estate agent said they’re waiving the deposit as long as I work there. I guess they have a veterinarian shortage.”
“Wow.” Brina grinned. “Then I think you should do it. What’s the worst that can happen?”
On cue, Byron squealed loudly, almost as if in agreement.
Leaning over the counter, emotions tumbling about inside her, she opened the email and read the instructions again. Yes, she was really going to do this.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Audrey’s skin practically danced with shivers as she boarded the British Airways flight. She hadn’t been on a plane in forever, since a trip to Disney World when she was twelve.
Once Audrey made the decision to move to Sicily and got the ball rolling, everything happened so fast.
She gave up her apartment easily, put all her belongings in storage, and booked the flight, all in a matter of two weeks’ time. She deferred her student loans and got her finances in order, sort of. There were only a few people who mattered enough to her to tell them about it—her mother, a couple of neighbors. In fact, the ease with which it was done
, with which she extracted herself from the city she’d grown up in, only served to affirm that she’d made the right decision.
Now, everything she’d need in her life had been boiled down to a few suitcases.
As she walked down the aisle of the airplane, scanning the rows and seat letters, she realized her seat was in the aisle.
Lame.
She stopped at her row and loaded her carry-on into the overhead bin. The older businessman at the window was already leaning against it, half-asleep. A very large man sat in the seat between them.
Audrey leaned over the man’s massive belly and tugged on the man’s business suit. He stirred, confused.
“Pardon me. Would you mind switching seats with me? This is my first time to Sicily, and I …”
The man rubbed his eyes and pulled his Wall Street Journal from the front pocket. “Not at all, dear.”
She smiled. Another fortuitous thing. It was like everything was working out for good. She could feel it. Sure, the large man grumbled a little bit as he tried to remove his seatbelt, and then there was a bit of fumbling like a game of musical chairs, but then they all settled into their seats, and all was well.
Pulling off her jacket and adjusting the vent overhead, she said to the large man, “I’m sorry. I wanted the window seat so I could see the beautiful Italian countryside as we land! I know we have time, but I’m excited.”
It was an eleven-hour flight to Palermo, with a stop in Heathrow, so it’d be miserable to have no one to talk to. At first, she thought he might not be much of a travel companion, but then he cleared his throat and said, in very accented English, “You don’t travel much?”
She shook her head. “First time out of the country. I only had a passport just in case. I never used it before now. So, do you live in Sicily?”
She was aware she was chattering too much, and the plane hadn’t even left the gate, but she couldn’t help it. She always talked too much when she was nervous. Excited. Nervously excited.
“Yes. I live in Palermo. I visited my brother up in Portland. Are you visiting?”
“No. I bought a house, actually. In Mussomeli?”
His brow knit in confusion. “Why would you want to go there?”
That didn’t sound good. In fact, he might as well have said, Why would you want to go to that pit of utter despair and ruin? “Do you know it?”
“Eh. A bit. It’s inland. A young thing like you, going out there by yourself?” He inhaled sharply and she thought there was a little bit of dread in his voice, something he was reluctant to tell her. She shoved it off. “You buy from one of those—eh—website?”
She nodded, then took her phone off of Airplane Mode to show him the website. He looked at it quietly for a few seconds and said, “Well, in bocca al lupo.”
Audrey stared at him, head tilted. She’d expected him to say something like Buona fortuna, or something, which she thought meant “good luck.” “What does that mean?” She grabbed her pocket dictionary. “I don’t …”
He chuckled. “It means, in English, in the mouth of the wolf.”
“Oh.” Now she was more confused than ever. She had a mental image of herself as Little Red Riding Hood, putting herself in the clutches of the Big Bad Wolf. “Thanks. I think?”
He laughed some more and shook his head fiercely. “No, it’s a ritual we have. Like your ‘break a leg’?”
“Ohhhh,” Audrey said, catching on.
“And to that, you would just say, Crepi.”
“Crepi.” She tried to pronounce it exactly as he had, but failed miserably. “Which means?”
“Die the wolf.”
“Oh. Makes perfect sense.” She looked out the window as the plane began to speed up. She hadn’t even noticed it taxiing on the runway. She took a long last look at Boston as they sped down the tarmac at Logan, wondering when she would see it again. “As you can tell, I know no Italian whatsoever. Except ciao. And … cannoli.”
He burst out laughing. “Those are the most important ones.” He motioned with his hands. “Come now. That can’t be all you know. What about Piacere?”
She wrinkled her nose.
“Piacere. Mi chiamo Gabriele. Come sta?”
She threw up her hands, nonplussed. “I told you, I have no idea—”
“I just introduced myself. Mi chiamo Gabriele.” He touched his chest. The buttons on his polo shirt were open, wiry hair and a few thick gold chains escaping from its confines. “And you are?”
“Oh!” Now she was getting it. She pointed to her own chest. “Audrey.”
“Piacere, Audrey.”
She said the unfamiliar word slowly, letting it roll off her lips. “Thank you.”
“Grazie.”
“Right. Grazie.” She watched his thick lips as the words easily left his mouth. “Ugh, I don’t speak it very well.”
“Mi dispiace, non parlo molto bene l’italiano.”
She tried, her tongue getting hopelessly tangled as she attempted it on her own. She laughed, and he did, too.
Despite the long flight, the hours went by quickly. Audrey spent a good amount of the time talking to Gabriele, finding out more about what he knew about Palermo and the surrounding areas, and of course, learning Italian.
After a while, he said, “Now tell me, what brings a lovely young lady like yourself to leave a great city like Boston for the wilds of Sicily?”
She sighed.
She must’ve been exhausted, because she opened her mouth to tell him it was too sad a story to talk about, but suddenly, it all slipped from her mouth like water down a storm drain. She told him everything. About her job at the veterinary practice, finding the ad while riding the T, the disastrous high school reunion … everything.
“ … And you see,” she went on, waving to the flight attendant to come take away her coffee. She dropped it in the trash bag. “It was like everyone in high school had gone on without me. They all had wonderful lives, and what did I have? Absolutely nothing.”
“What does it matter to you, what these people think? They are … how you say … nothing. Right? All that matters is what you think about yourself. Yes?”
“I guess. But I guess I just don’t feel too highly about myself on my own. I had all these dreams, and I was too scared to pursue them.” She took a deep breath. “And I decided that if I wanted to live an extraordinary life, you have to take extraordinary measures. Am I right?”
He nodded. “Yes. So you bought the house?”
She slapped the tray table with her fist. “I bought the house. And I’m committed to this. To building a life there. I mean, I’m in my thirties. I don’t want to go into my forties having had no adventures whatsoever.”
“I see. That makes sense. My brother moved to Portland, we all thought he was crazy. But he loves it there. Among our friends, we call him the Brave One. If there is something in his life he doesn’t like, he changes it. Sometimes I wish I can be the same.” He shrugged his fleshy shoulders. “But not me. I am stuck living in Palermo, all my life.”
She smiled. “Well, you can come visit me in Mussomeli. Okay? I will fix the guest room up for you. If there even is a guest room.” She scratched her head. “I’m not entirely sure on that. The listing was a little sketchy about the number of rooms.”
He laughed. “It is a deal.”
When the plane landed in Sicily, she sighed at the sight of the blue Mediterranean sea, dotted with sailboats. Waves lapped at the edges of white sand beaches. She could feel the warmth of the bright sun, even though it was early morning, even through the window. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Everything looked happier in the sunlight. “It’s beautiful,” she gushed.
“Welcome to my home,” Gabriele said.
When the plane finished taxiing and the Fasten Seatbelt sign dinged off, Gabriele held his hand out to her.
“È stato un piacere conocerla, Gabriele,” she said, her words only slightly stilted, proud of all she had learned.
“Likewis
e,” he said as they shook hands and he helped bring her carry-on down from the overhead compartment. “And remember, Audrey, mi cara, quando finisce la partita il re ed il pedone finiscono nella stessa scatola.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, slipping her bag’s strap over her shoulder.
His heavily lidded dark eyes suddenly twinkled. “I hope you will learn that on your own.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
When she stepped off the flight, Audrey paused and inhaled deeply.
The scent of freedom.
Actually, she was still stuck in the airport, and the air here wasn’t much different from that in Logan. But still. It felt cleaner. Freer.
She was trundled along with the other travelers, in the direction of the luggage return. When she reached the carousel, Gabriele waved at her and headed out the door. Apparently, he’d only brought a carry-on, or else she would’ve liked to nab him to ask how to hail a taxi in Italian, just in case.
But she could do this. Alone. She didn’t need anyone else.
So assured of that was she that when her luggage popped out of the return, she scuttled to the carousel and waved off a young man’s attempt to help her, lifting her heavy flowered suitcases on her own. “Got it!” she said with a grin. “But thanks!”
Taking one handle in each hand, she rolled them behind her, out the sliding glass doors. The sun was rising high on the island. Despite the heat, the impressive mountains in the distance took her breath away. Beyond the many pillars and the parking lot, she gasped at the sight of a large, snow-capped mountain, jutting toward the sky like the Paramount Pictures logo.
“Wow,” she whispered, then almost forgot that now she could take those breaths of Italian air. She did, dragging it into her lungs. There was plenty of it—it was windy and warm, at least seventy degrees, despite the early morning. Though she could still taste the sea, slightly, like she did back home, it was cooler, and fresher, and … better. Boston, eat your heart out.
Turned out, she didn’t need Gabriele’s help. She found the taxi stand by the symbols and got in line. As she did, she studied her Italian-English dictionary to get the phrasing exactly right. By the time she reached the front of the line, she thought she had it down.
